


Ouija

by TheTraderJoesParkingLot



Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Angst, Because my brain just did, But I love them now so I feel like they deserve a tag, Found Family, Gen, Have I mentioned that I have No Clue What I'm Doing, I have OCs tagged but they aren't going to be major players in this story, I truly have no clue what I'm doing, My tags are a hot mess but I'm a hot mess so, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sing that to the tune of Watch What Happens from Newsies, i guess, i have no idea what this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:49:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28940244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTraderJoesParkingLot/pseuds/TheTraderJoesParkingLot
Summary: Lydia has been invited to a sleepover.Maybe this is her first shot at a normal, teenage life.Or not.
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Charles Deetz & Delia Deetz & Lydia Deetz & Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz, Lydia Deetz & Original Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

Lydia couldn’t believe it.

For the first time in her life, she was invited to a sleepover.

And saying that she was ready to shit bricks was an understatement.

It was stupid, she thought as she threw her toothbrush into her backpack. Why does she want to impress them so badly? She was Lydia Deetz, your friendly (or not so friendly) neighborhood badass. The girl who lives in a haunted house (even if the house is haunted by ghosts who flip through Pottery Barn magazines in their spare time), summoned a demon, quite literally ran through Hell and back, and killed a man (that one she was less proud of, but it was still on her metaphorical resume nonetheless). She wasn’t about to be flustered by teenage girls. And yet, she was. Even though she tried to push the creeping feelings of uncertainty away, she couldn’t help but check her outfit in the mirror approximately ninety bajillion times, or continuously scrub off her eyeliner until she was _sure_ it was winged perfectly. But why?

Because maybe, just maybe, this sleepover signaled the beginning of a sense of _normalcy_. And, although she couldn’t believe it herself, Lydia craved a sense of normalcy for once in her life. In the past year she had lost her mother physically, lost her father emotionally, nearly impaled herself on a birdbath, and somehow found her way back home through a series of events consisting of two of the kindest, warmest ghosts you’ll ever meet, a crazy but well-meaning life-coach-turned-stepmom, a bunch of other dead people, the ruler of the Netherworld, a giant fucking worm (or worms?), and an infamous, striped demon who she had considered (considers?) a friend.

But then he walked through that door, and her new house, that felt lonely and suffocating, became busy, lively (pun somewhat intended) and, well, suffocating. She went from having one adult up her ass to having _four_ , and while she loved them all dearly, a teenage girl could only take so many gentle, sickeningly-sweet touches, quirked, scolding eyebrows when she decided to mutter the word ‘fuck’ once a month, and all too eager offers to help her with her homework or look at her latest photography project before she lost her fucking mind and inevitably blew up at her newest, innocent victim. Then came the guilt. Because really, at the end of the day, they were all just trying their best. And she knew that. And loved that. So then came apologies, usually with some tears. And she hated, _hated_ crying, especially in front of adults who want nothing more than to smother her with hugs and affection. And although therapy isn’t an entire dumpster-fire-shit-show like she thought it was going to be, there were certain things she could _never_ discuss for fear of being admitted to the juvenile mental ward, so her growing sense of irritability would remain unfixed.

So maybe when two girls, Gwen and Evelyn, didn’t turn their backs to her when their English teacher asked the class to get into groups of three, Lydia’s interest had been piqued. And maybe after a few lunch dates at the pizza place in town, and a few photography sessions in the woods behind Evelyn’s house, it was time to take the next big step in their relationship and have a slumber party. Fuck, all these social rules with all their stupid hierarchies and nuances. It was enough to make you want to run into Hell to get away from it all. But prevail, she shall.

And the adults had been positively _thrilled_ when she announced that she had been invited to a sleepover. She laughed, thinking back to the night she told them all around the dinner table. They were having spaghetti. Lydia loves spaghetti. Anyway, the only one who had remained calm, cool, and collected was Barbara of all people, with her gentle, reassuring touches and her coos of “that’s nice, honey.” Her dad had nearly fallen out of his chair, his eyes bulging comically, all surprised and dumbfounded that his daughter, princess of darkness, had actually accepted a social handout from her peers rather than eating the girls instead. Adam nearly screamed, and Delia did, but not all throaty and deep like the real, terrified screams that Lydia so enjoyed inducing, but more of a fluttery, wavering “ooooooh!” as the woman shook her hands excitedly, the multitude of bangles on her wrist ringing out amongst the commotion. Hell, Lydia thought that Delia was going to pack her up and kick her out of the door right then and there, despite it being three days prior to the actual event.

At the top of the stairs, Lydia prayed to whatever godforsaken entity that would listen that this exit would be quick and painless. She could already picture the four adults lined up at the bottom of the stairs with their puppy dog eyes and their big, goofy smiles. Despite it being a bit overwhelming, it was predictable, and the mental image made her smile nonetheless as she made her way down.

And predictable it was.

She barely stepped off the bottom stair when her stepmother shoved a bag of snacks in her hand for her to take as a “peace offering” (her words, not Lydia’s) as she sipped her Chardonnay, already seeming to get a head start on the “our joint daughter-figure is out of the house and we actually have a night to ourselves for fucking once” wine night the adults had planned. Adam assaulted her with a checklist to ensure she had packed everything she needed, and then enveloped her in a hug. Finally, Barbara reached around her with tender arms and gentle hands, with her soft hair and her body that perpetually smelled like lavender. All glorious sensations that made Lydia linger for an additional moment, reminding her of someone who was far gone from the mortal plane.

With a firm hand on her back, her father guided her out the door and into his sleek, black car, the GPS emotionlessly barking out directions until they reached a white, Cape Cod style house with a disgustingly suburban red door that couldn’t even hold a candle to her classic Victorian home with the original crown molding. Curse Adam and his endless affinity for architecture.

“Maybe I should come to the door and formally introduce myself. Do you need help carrying everything? I gave you my best sleeping bag and it’s pretty bulky.”

Lydia blew a chuckle out of her nose at her father’s well-organized worry.

“No dad, I’m okay. I can take it from here.”

Charles looked to his baby girl, a bittersweet smile on his face as he rubbed his hand reassuringly along her arm before pulling her into a Dad HugTM. She slid out of the car and up to the front door, taking a steadying breath before she rang the doorbell. Almost immediately, Gwen and Evelyn swung it open, waving a friendly hand to her dad as he pulled away, and whisked Lydia inside.

“Sorry about my house.” Gwen called over her shoulder as she grabbed bowls for Lydia’s “peace offering” chips. “It’s disgustingly suburban, I know.”

“It’s like you read my mind.” Lydia chuckled stiffly as she reached down to give an awkward pat to a dog that was flinging drool all over her boots with his excited tongue.

“Roman, go lay down.” Evelyn instructed as she scrolled through her phone on the couch. “Just tell him that any time he starts to bother you. He _really_ likes new people.”

Right. She was _new._ Gwen and Evelyn had been friends since…second grade? Third? She couldn’t remember, but for some reason, they were allowing Lydia to intrude on their friendship like the outsider she is. The dog pitter-pattered away as Lydia strolled to the couch to take a seat.

“Omg, look at this. I’m such a bitch for sunset pictures.” Evelyn shoved an Instagram-laden phone in Lydia’s view. Not bad, but Lydia could do this sunset so much more justice with her camera.

“Yeah, you are a bitch. A basic one.” Lydia retorted, receiving fake-offended giggles in return. Lydia wasn’t wrong. By definition, Evelyn was. She walked through the halls in her skinny jeans and Francesca’s blouses, smelling like her “Coco and Glow” PINK body spray. She was a dancer, having trained in tap, ballet, jazz, lyrical, and contemporary since she was four, like Lydia understood what any of that meant.

“Ooh, sick burn Lyd. She is fucking basic.” Gwen retorted as she took a seat on the armchair tucked in the corner.

“Hey, you’re no better Miss High School Soccer Star.” Lydia countered. That was true, too. Gwen sat in her Target leggings and sweatshirt, her feet kicked up on the coffee table as she fiddled with the FitBit that hung around her wrist.

“Whatever.” Gwen waved her off. “So, I was thinking we watch something on Netflix. There’s this new documentary about the Challenger Disaster that seemed kinda interesting. Wait, Ev, didn’t you say you went to Kennedy Space Center and they completely glossed over that dark day in NASA history?”

“Holy shit, yes!” Evelyn remembered, sitting up eagerly. “There was this whole movie feature thing that my dad was dying to go to all about the history of space travel. And when they got the point where the Challenger happened, they were just like ‘But not all space missions are a resounding success, and lives have been lost, never to be forgotten.’ And that was it! They didn’t even fucking mention it by name! It was so disrespectful!”

“It’s probably because it was NASA’s fault they all fucking died.” Gwen added. “They launched when they really should’ve waited because it was too cold. But they were so concerned with saving money because...”

“Capitalism!” The three girls shouted in unison.

“So I’d prefer not to watch that ‘cause it’ll do nothing but piss me the fuck off. But I do expect you ladies to do your own research.” Evelyn teased.

“And have a report on your desk by Monday?” Lydia challenged with a quirked eyebrow.

“MLA format, baby.”

So maybe these girls were a little “basic.” And maybe Lydia would normally never be caught dead with girls like them. But they had edge. They had spunk. And they were smart. So maybe Lydia wasn’t as out of place as she thought.

“Can we watch some sort of true crime show? I don’t really get to watch them at my house.” Lydia suggested.

“Really?” Evelyn asked, incredulously. “Miss Doom and Gloom herself doesn’t watch the scary, gory true crime shows?”

“Oh…I’m, uh…” Lydia faltered. “I’m not allowed.” That wasn’t true. But considering she had two residents of her household who died in a scary, gory accident, she didn’t feel as though it was very respectful. “Yeah, my stepmom doesn’t like those shows. She’s thinks they bring ‘bad vibes’ into the house.” A complete lie, but a convincing one.

“Your stepmom is fucking funny. But sure. Besides, it’ll be a perfect segue to what I have planned for tonight.” Gwen bragged, sharing a glance with Evelyn. They made plans without her?

“You’re probably gonna think it’s super lame.” Evelyn chimed, casting a sideways glance at Lydia.

“My weird aunt bought me a Ouija board for my birthday and I think we have the _perfect_ person to help us conduct a séance. Maybe summon a few demons while we’re at it. What do you think, Lyd?” Gwen asked playfully.

Oh, if only they knew. Lydia pondered for a moment. With all of the firsthand experience she had with death and what happens after it, Lydia couldn’t decide on an opinion when it came to legitimacy of Oujia boards. Only one way to find out.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Perfect!” Evelyn exclaimed.

“In that case…” Gwen started as she rose and walked into the kitchen. “I grabbed these from the fridge in the garage after my mom left, and she won’t be back for a few hours. I say we pound a few of these back while we make sure Lydia gets her crime show fix before we contact the Great Beyond.” Gwen strode in, a box of White Claws hanging from her hand.

“Won’t your mom realize they’ve gone missing?” Evelyn asked.

“Nah. Love the woman, but she _never_ checks the garage fridge. I’m pretty sure these are from last summer. I don’t think they go bad though, they might just be less fizzy.”

“Okay, but what about when she sees the box in the trash?”

“Relax. I’ll run it across the street to my neighbor’s garbage can before she gets home. We don’t talk to them anyway, so it’s perfect. What flavor do you guys want?” Gwen dove into the box, the cans clunking against each other as she rummaged.

“Ooh, gimme a grapefruit! Oh my God, my dad would be so pissed if he found out we were doing this.” Evelyn giggled.

Lydia froze. Her dad would also be pissed. And so would her stepmom. And her Adam. And her Barbara. Evelyn and Gwen didn’t have a stepmom or an Adam or a Barbara to worry about. Yet another reminder that Lydia was not a normal teenager. She never would be.

But normal teenagers _did_ drink shitty carbonated alcohol when left unsupervised.

“Lydia?”

“I’ll take a black cherry.”

* * *

A slew of crime shows and four White Claws each later, the girls stumbled up the stairs.

“I can’t believe your mom smelled the White Claw Lydia spilled all over herself and thought it was perfume!”

“I can’t believe Lydia spilled White Claw all over herself.”

“Shut the fuck up, that can is way too big to shotgun.”

After changing into pajamas and brushing their teeth, the gaggle of giggling girls found themselves on the floor of Gwen’s room.

“Okay, so I’ve been keeping it under my bed all this time because I had no fucking idea what to do with it.”

“What kind of gift is a Ouija board anyway?” Lydia asked.

“Fuck if I know. I looked it up and they market it as a board game. Honestly I think she has no clue what a Ouija board is and she just thinks she bought me a new, trendy game.”

“Honestly, if these things are dangerous, that’s pretty fucked up.” Evelyn added.

“Only one way to find out if they are.” Lydia replied. “Gwen, you got a candle we can light?”

“Ooh, edgy. But yeah. On my desk. Lighter’s right next to it. Turn off the light while you’re at it.”

“Peach Bellini?” Lydia scoffed.

“What? It’s our only option, so suck it up.”

After Lydia lit the candle and flicked off the light, she joined the girls back on the floor, all gathered around the board. Lydia rolled her eyes, amused at the flimsy board.

“Alright Lydia.” Gwen challenged as the trio placed their fingers on the planchette. “Care to do the honors?”

“Greetings, spirits!” Lydia bellowed in a low whisper. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or what, but Lydia felt like leaning into the dramatics. The other two giggled at her grandeur.

“We are seeking council from the Great Beyond! What wisdom do you have for us on this most enchanting night?”

Nothing.

“Maybe our ghost is broken.” Evelyn remarked.

“Maybe it’s stupid.” Gwen joked.

The planchette began to waver.

“Wow, Lyd, really scary.”

Gently, slowly, it began to glide.

S.

“Hey Gwen, maybe the ghost wants to tell you that _you’re_ stupid.”

C.

“Ooh, maybe our ghost has schizophrenia!”

A.

R.

E.

C.

R.

O.

W.

“Scarecrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh...that happened.
> 
> Am I currently in the middle of another "Beetlejuice returns" fic? Yes.  
> Do I have any semblance of an idea or plotline for this story? Nope.  
> Do I know what I'm doing? You bet your sweet ass I don't!
> 
> I just had an idea for this the other night and I absolutely had to write it and put it out into the world. So we'll see what happens, I guess.
> 
> Also, is this how teenagers actually talk nowadays? I'm in my ✨mid-twenties✨ so I hope I didn't make it too cheesy and unconvincing.
> 
> Also also, if you're going to research the Challenger Disaster, please do so carefully! There's some crazy info about how they actually died and what happened when divers found their bodies and I didn't sleep at all after reading it.
> 
> But, yeah! Hope you enjoyed and hope you'll join me for what I'm sure will be a crazy ride!  
> Because I'm the driver, and I don't have a map. And I'm also blindfolded. And my hands are tied behind my back. And I'm laying on the floor of the car. Actually I'm in the trunk. But I have snacks, so it's cool.


	2. Chapter 2

Lydia’s breath caught in her lungs. She stared at the planchette as it hung over the W.

No.

No, it can’t be.

But it definitely can.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped and the air grew thick.

“Hey guys?” Evelyn whimpered. “I don’t think I wanna play this game anymore.”

The wind howled outside the window.

“Me neither.” Gwen stammered. “Lydia, how do we end it? Lydia?”

Lydia could only stare as the planchette slid to 3.

“Lydia, stop, this isn’t funny anymore!”

Lydia shook her head to try to clear the fear that was rising into her chest. She guided the planchette to the bottom of the board.

“Goodbye!”

Scratches came from the other side of the door.

The flame from the candle went out, surrounding the girls in darkness.

They screamed.

If anyone had to handle the situation they just unleashed upon themselves, it had to be Lydia. She stood, storming over to the door. She swung it open.

“Beetleju—”

In the brightly lit hallway stood Roman, wagging his tail eagerly, completely aloof to the terror the girls were currently experiencing. He sauntered in, sniffing at the board on the floor. Lydia turned to find Gwen and Evelyn huddled against each other.

“Guys, guys I’m sorry! It wasn’t me, I swear!”

A call from Gwen’s mom came from downstairs. The girl rose, flicking on the light.

“Yeah mom, we’re fine. We were just watching something on Netflix.”

After taking a cursory glance out into the hallway, Gwen quickly shut her door, then turned to lean against it. Evelyn sat on the floor, shakily petting the dog. The three stared at each other for a moment before Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Guys, I swear, I didn’t—”

“No, no, there’s no way that could’ve been you. Not with the candle.” Gwen remarked.

“Did you guys feel the air in here? You don’t have a window open, do you?” Evelyn asked.

Gwen stomped over to her window, pulling up the blinds to double check. Lydia backed away, half expecting a certain someone to be hovering just beyond the window pane. All that she saw was a closed window. Gwen spun to face the other two, her chest heaving.

“What the hell was that?” Evelyn whispered breathily.

“I have no fucking clue. But what I do know is that _this_ is going in my neighbor’s trash.” Gwen strode over to the board, grabbing it and the planchette from the floor. Evelyn reeled backwards, as though the board was going to slit her throat on the way out. And who knows, maybe it would.

“Wait!”

Lydia ran towards Gwen, taking the board from her hands and tossing the planchette to the ground. She held the board firmly before breaking it over her knee. She stomped on the planchette, the plastic crackling underneath her foot. Scooping up the debris, she handed everything back to Gwen. The girls stared at her, dumbfounded.

“If the board wasn’t made out of shitty cardboard, I’d be a lot more impressed.” Gwen stated.

“Be impressed. My foot fucking hurts. I just wanted to make sure that whatever happened was done for good.”

After a moment, Gwen nodded solemnly before turning and exiting her room. A few seconds later, the other two girls could hear her quietly sneak out of the front door. Lydia turned, meeting Evelyn’s gaze, who just shook her head and shrugged.

* * *

Lydia shivered, despite being bundled up in her father’s best sleeping bag. The girls slept in a circle, their heads facing inwards. Roman, bless his little soul, was snoring gently, curled up in the middle of their arrangement. There was noticeable tension in the air, but Lydia wasn’t sure if it was because of the events of the night, or because everyone else was awake as well but too afraid to say anything. So Lydia just resolved to stare up at the ceiling, her heartbeat ringing in her ears.

There was no way it was a coincidence.

And there was no way it was a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOooooOooOOOoOOh spoopy.


End file.
